


Captured and Claimed

by vintagelilacs



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Cenred is a creep, Episode Remix, Episode Rewrite: s03e07 The Castle of Fyrien, Episode: s03e07 The Castle of Fyrien, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), episode rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26431528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagelilacs/pseuds/vintagelilacs
Summary: "It seems Morgause made a slight miscalculation," Cenred murmured, his gaze raking Merlin up and down, and leaving the sensation of dirty claw marks across his skin. "Camelot's princedoesfancy a servant, but it isn't Guinevere."Or, Cenred discovers an unexpected weakness of Arthur's.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 123
Kudos: 1316





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a pointless rewrite of S3E07 - The Castle of Fyrien because I felt it would be better with Merthur lmao

A pair of hands wrenched Merlin’s arms behind his back with such force he worried they’d pop out of their sockets. The torch he’d been carrying clattered to the ground. Arthur, Gwen, and Morgana whirled around at his cry. Arthur’s sword was already unsheathed, but before he could manage a step towards them, a blade appeared beneath Merlin’s throat.

“Drop your sword.” The guard’s unwashed breath fouled the air. It made Merlin want to cringe back more than the sword at his throat did. 

Arthur’s grip on his sword slackened. Merlin gazed past the defeated stoop of Arthur’s shoulders and locked eyes with Morgana. Her chin raised in triumph. 

Merlin had faced mercenaries and armed threats too often in the past couple years to feel frightened by the razor edge of steel pressed against his neck. Instead, he mostly felt annoyed. This encounter could have been avoided entirely if Arthur had just listened to him for once. He’d tried to warn him that an ambush awaited them in the tunnels beneath the Castle of Fyrien, but Arthur had brushed off his cautions as paranoia. 

The clotpole never listened to him, which was also the reason Merlin hadn’t outed Morgana as a traitor and an ally of Morgause. Arthur would never give credence to the words of a servant over the king's own ward. No one else suspected Morgana of subterfuge or doubted her motives, either. She even had Gwen, who was closest to her, entirely fooled. 

If Arthur or Gwen would just look at Morgana now, surely her lack of surprise and the exultant glow in her eyes would betray her. Of course, neither of them glanced in her direction. Their focus was captured instead by the armed guards flooding through the adjoining tunnels. 

Arthur's sword was confiscated and he was stripped of his armour, leaving him in a plain tunic and trousers. The four of them were then bound with their hands behind their backs, although Morgana was handled much more delicately than the rest of them. Yet another detail Arthur failed to notice. 

Cenred’s guards marched them to a decrepit chamber that may have once served as a throne room. 

As Merlin had anticipated, Morgause stood by Cenred’s side. 

“Well, if it isn’t Prince Arthur.” Cenred grinned, flashing rows of straight teeth. The torchlight cast his face in shades of orange, producing the impression of a menacing pumpkin. “How kind of you to join us. And you’ve brought friends.” His eyes lingered on Gwen and Morgana but passed unseeing over Merlin’s face. Merlin was used to fading into the background and going unnoticed by men of higher rank. His status as a servant concealed him as surely as a spell of invisibility. At the moment, he was grateful for the anonymity it afforded him. 

“We’ll interrogate Uther’s ward first.”

Merlin barely stifled a snort. ‘Interrogate.’ More like ‘politely convene with’. 

The guards steered them through roughhewn stone corridors. Merlin lost sight of Gwen but was tossed inside the same cramped cell as Arthur. 

Merlin had been in nicer cells. He’d also been in far worse. At least this cell only had a miasma of must and decay, instead of bodily waste.

“What was it you said earlier?” Merlin’s hushed voice echoed through the cell. “You were willing to bet your life that Cenred didn’t know of the tunnels?” 

“Shut up, Merlin.”

“It’s all right, I get it. I am just a servant. And it’s not like I’ve ever proven you wrong before.” He paused. “Except I guess I have once or twice. Or a hundred times.” 

“Do you ever stop talking?” 

“When I’m not held captive in a cell, yes.”

Arthur scrubbed a frustrated hand down his face. “I get it. I messed up, I’m a terrible leader, and this is all my fault.” 

Merlin bit his tongue. “You’re not.” 

“Yeah, right.” 

“I mean it. I was just taking the piss.” Well, mostly. He did resent that Arthur never valued his opinion, but it was obvious Arthur felt guilty at having led them into a trap. He was probably worrying over Gwen and Morgana’s fates, too. 

“She’ll be all right, you know. Gwen,” he clarified. He didn’t want to discuss Morgana. 

Arthur didn’t reply. 

“We’ll rescue them. And Gwen’s brother.” Still Arthur made no response. Merlin’s lips pursed. If there was one thing that drove him crazy, it was when Arthur ignored him. “I know you fancy her.” 

Arthur turned away. Apparently the stone wall of the cell was a more stimulating sight than Merlin. “Like you fancy Morgana?” 

“What?” Where had that come from? “That isn’t—I don’t—” 

“Please.” Arthur leveled him an unimpressed stare. There was an abrasive quality to Arthur’s voice that he couldn’t make sense of. “You’re not exactly subtle, Merlin. You barely took your eyes off her the entire journey here.” 

That much was true, but only because he’d been keeping a watch on her to ensure she didn’t run off to betray their plan to Morgause and Cenred. Which she of course had. Before Merlin could disabuse Arthur of the notion, his royal pratiness plowed on. 

“You’re just a servant.”

“Really? Here I thought I was the king.” 

Arthur scowled, his face creasing with frustration. “You should be mindful of your station.” 

The tips of Merlin's ears warmed with embarrassment. “That's rich coming from you. It’s fine for you to court Gwen but not for me to court Morgana?” Merlin really didn’t have the faintest idea why he was pressing the matter, given the fact that he very much did _not_ want to court her. If there was a noble he’d like to court, it would be Arthur, but he would never attempt that considering he wasn’t a complete masochist. 

“I’m the future King of Camelot. I don’t have to answer to you.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” 

They lapsed into silence. The only noise for the next couple hours was the sound of Arthur’s pacing and the scurrying of rats. The tiny window in the uppermost part of the cell revealed that darkness was encroaching the horizon. 

The cold dampness of the cell slowly seeped into Merlin’s joints. Maybe Arthur had the right idea with his pacing. At least that way he was moving and generating body heat. 

Merlin scuffed the toe of his boot against the ground. “I don't understand why we're not dead already.” Unless Cenred’s plan was to kill them with boredom. In which case, his plan was working. 

“Because Cenred will want to torture me first. Find out what I know about Camelot’s defenses and how best to infiltrate them.”

“Then why make us wait so long?” 

“Torture tactic.” 

“Hm. Aren't you afraid?”

“No. Not in the slightest.” Arthur didn’t sound sarcastic, but Merlin couldn’t be certain. 

“Sorry, I don't understand. How can you not be afraid of pain?”

“I _am_ afraid of pain, there's just not going to be any.”

“Right. So, you’re planning on going into some sort of trance?” 

“What on earth are you talking about? There's not going to be any because we’re going to escape from this filthy cell and rescue the others.”

“Oh. You have a plan.” 

“Not as such.” 

They weren’t given much time to brainstorm. 

Cenred and a trio of guards arrived outside the cell. He gestured for his guards to stay behind and entered the cell alone. Arthur shoved Merlin roughly behind him. 

Cenred’s gaze flicked towards Merlin, a newfound gleam of interest in his eyes. His gaze weighed on Merlin as keenly as a touch. Arthur bristled. 

“I’d assumed Guinevere was the exception, but it seems you’re rather protective of this one too.” 

“Arthur cares for all of his people,” Merlin cut in before Arthur could speak. 

Cenred’s eyes narrowed. “You’re very loyal.” 

Arthur’s muscles coiled with tension. If his hands weren’t bound, Merlin had no doubt he would have launched himself at Cenred, never mind that Cenred was armed. 

“It’s admirable that you’d feel such loyalty to a man who isn’t even _your_ prince,” Cenred continued. 

Merlin’s heart lurched. It was true that Ealdor was situated in Cenred’s kingdom, but surely Cenred didn’t know he was a native of Essetir. 

“It’s Merlin, isn’t it?” 

He flinched. “How did—”

“Tell me Merlin, where is it you’re from?” 

“I am a subject of Camelot,” he answered carefully. 

“You were born there?” 

Merlin didn’t answer. He suspected Cenred already knew—Morgana had likely told him already. But then why ask at all? Was he testing Merlin for some unfathomable reason?

Arthur didn't allow him the chance to speak for himself. “Merlin's from a backwater town in Camelot.” 

“Interesting. That’s not what I was told.” Cenred locked eyes with Arthur. “I heard our guest here hails from Ealdor. A town residing in _my_ kingdom.”

“Who told you that?” Arthur demanded. 

“Morgana,” Merlin blurted unthinkingly, unable to keep the edge of resentment from his voice. 

Arthur shook his head. “She wouldn’t.” 

Surprisingly, Cenred corroborated Merlin’s guess. “Yes. You’ll find I’m quite capable of extracting information.”

Arthur’s cheeks flushed with anger at the insinuation. “You tortured her!” 

“Don’t worry, little prince. You won’t find a scar on her body.” 

“Morgause cast a truth spell on her,” Arthur guessed. 

Merlin clamped down his lower lip to prevent himself from suggesting the more likely possibility that Morgana had provided the information voluntarily.

Cenred shrugged, neither refuting nor confirming Arthur’s surmise. “I must say I find it interesting that one of my subjects would come to be a manservant for the prince of Camelot.” 

“Maybe you should do a better job taking care of your subjects,” Arthur answered. 

“Merlin is a citizen of Essetir.” Cenred stroked a hand over his bearded chin. “Do you know what that means?” 

“Yes. It means that your subjects would rather swear fealty to me, and that you are an inadequate ruler.” 

“I happen to think it means that your manservant here belongs to me.” 

Merlin blanched. What the hell was Cenred playing at? His best guess was that Morgana had suggested he goad Arthur by threatening his manservant. 

“He is a pretty one, isn’t he?” Cenred’s eyes hungrily mapped Merlin’s body, assessing him like a butcher inspecting their prize calf. Merlin shivered, and not in the pleasant way he did on the rare occasion Arthur touched him. He knew Cenred didn’t desire him, not truly. He desired what he represented: something of value to Prince Arthur. Something that could provide leverage. 

“Don’t touch him.” Arthur’s voice was low and rough. It did funny things to Merlin’s stomach. 

A knowing look flashed over Cenred’s face, before he gave Merlin another slow, deliberate once-over. His eyes raked him up and down, leaving the sensation of dirty claw marks across his skin. “It seems Morgause made a slight miscalculation. Camelot's prince _does_ fancy a servant, but it isn't Guinevere.” 

If the atmosphere weren’t so tense, Merlin would have laughed. Cenred couldn’t be serious. Merlin glanced at Arthur, surprised when he didn’t immediately volunteer a derisive comment. Arthur’s face had paled, and his lips were compressed into a white line. Why wasn’t Arthur undermining Cenred’s words? It was a gross misinterpretation, and yet no denial sprang from Arthur’s lips.

“I can't fault your taste. If I found a specimen like this on my doorstep, I'd be tempted to secrete him away to my bedchambers as well.” Cenred gripped Merlin’s chin, tilting his face to the side before stroking a single finger down his cheekbone. 

Merlin tensed, his heartrate accelerating. He refrained with an effort from jerking his head back. To Cenred, he probably seemed like a skittish animal, when really, it was taking every ounce of restraint he had to prevent his magic from lashing out of its own accord. 

“I said _don’t touch him_.” 

“Careful, little prince. You seem to be forgetting who has the upper hand here.” He fixated wholly on Merlin. “I have a unique proposition for you. Being from Essetir, I’m sure you know our winters are cold, and I’ve been searching for someone to share my bed.” 

Merlin’s mouth went dry with shock. He never could have anticipated that this was how their mission to rescue Elyan would play out. “Thanks for the offer," he managed, "but I’m content with my current sleeping arrangements.” 

Cenred’s oily smile grew. “I admire a man who knows how to bargain. I can offer you more than Prince Arthur can. A title and a place among my inner court. What do you have to say?”

Merlin pretended to mull it over. He glanced sidelong at Arthur, expecting an affronted glare. Instead, Arthur looked stricken, his eyes wide and nervous as he awaited Merlin’s response. 

“That is a generous offer,” Merlin managed. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” 

Cenred’s nostrils distended in anger. He was a man who had never been denied anything. He wouldn’t forgive Merlin for refusing him. “Perhaps you misunderstand my offer.” 

Merlin held his gaze. “I’m loyal to my king.” 

“ _I_ am your king.” 

“Arthur is the only king I will ever serve.” 

“King?” Cenred laughed. “He’s still a prince. You’re wasting your time on a boy.” 

If Arthur was a boy, Merlin wondered what that made him. “I will serve Prince Arthur until the day I die.” His voice rang with conviction. 

Cenred stepped back. “Very well. It’s clear you require time to reconsider the value of my offer.” 

“I won’t.” 

Instead of being incensed by Merlin’s refusal, Cenred grinned. “It’s no matter. I can always keep you around as a pet.” 

The cell door shut with a bang. Cenred swaggered away with his troupe of guards, Arthur glaring all the while at his retreating figure. Arthur’s jaw was clenched so tight, Merlin could practically hear his teeth grinding together. 

“Well, that was… unexpected.” Merlin’s attempt at levity fell flat. 

Arthur didn’t acknowledge him, let alone crack a smile. 

Merlin didn’t know how else to dispel that strained tension between them. Arthur had been unusually silent for a while now, not even responding to Cenred’s final jabs. He was probably more upset that Cenred had mistaken his and Merlin’s relationship for something it wasn’t than anything else. It had to be a blow to Arthur's pride that Cenred had mistakenly believed him to harbour an attraction for Merlin. 

With a sigh, Merlin settled against the damp stone wall. Back to brainstorming. One thing was for sure: he had no intention of remaining trapped in the cell until Cenred decided to pay them a second visit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's commented so far
> 
> Note that the rating has changed

As darkness set in, the temperature in the cell plummeted. Merlin’s threadbare tunic and worn scarf were too lightweight to sufficiently conserve body heat. He inched closer to Arthur, hoping to discreetly share in his warmth, but his movements were more obvious than he intended. Arthur scoffed at his efforts, before grabbing his wrist and reeling him in.

Merlin ended up sprawled halfway across Arthur’s lap, and he scrambled to sit upright. Arthur’s side pressed firm against his. He could feel the hard outline of his muscles and was deeply thankful for the darkness that concealed his blush. 

Merlin coughed to clear his throat. “So, any ideas yet?” 

He half expected Arthur to continue ignoring him, but Arthur surprised him with a murmured response. “Just one.” 

When sunrise broke over the horizon, Arthur got into position, hoisting himself up and clinging to the rafters of the ceiling. Merlin stood in clear view of the cell door, attempting to look as unassuming as possible. 

It wasn’t long before heavy footsteps reverberated through the corridor. Merlin hoped it wasn’t Cenred. His skin crawled at the memory of Cenred’s hands on him, the proprietary way he’d touched him, as if he were no more than chattel. 

Arthur misinterpreted his shudder of disgust as a fear response. 

“I’ll protect you.” The words were scarcely louder than the sound of Arthur’s breath as it entered and left his lungs. Merlin almost wondered if he’d imagined it. 

In either case, there was no use in pointing out that he didn’t need protection. Of the two of them, Arthur much better suited the role of damsel in distress, but he’d never believe that Merlin was competent at defending himself. 

An armed guard came to a halt outside their cell, baring his yellowed teeth in a crooked smile. “King Cenred sends his regards.” The guard held out a single bowl of broth, a chunk of bread, and a waterskin. “None for the prince, I’m afraid.” 

The guard’s eyes dragged across the cell, searching for Arthur’s face. When he didn’t see him, his gloating expression faded, replaced by the emergence of a frown. 

“Where is he?” 

Merlin rounded his eyes into a look of innocence. “The Prince escaped. It happened sometime in the night while I was asleep.” 

The guard fumbled with his keys and burst into the cell as soon as the lock yielded. 

“I'm so sorry,” Merlin babbled. “I—I wish I knew where he was, but I...” he looked up. “Oh. There he is.” Before the guard could react, Arthur dropped down, knocking the guard into the hard stone floor. He didn’t get up again. 

Awkwardly, Arthur managed to grab a hold of the guard’s sword and set about sawing through the rope that bound his wrists. He freed Merlin next. As soon as his wrists were freed, Merlin rubbed feeling back into the stiff joints, before pocketing the guard’s keyring. 

“Nice job,” Merlin offered. 

Arthur ignored the praise, and didn’t even offer a teasing rejoinder like, _That’s what happens when you’re competent enough to carry plans through_ or _I hope you took notes, Merlin, in case I’m ever not around to save your sorry behind_. 

Merlin found the lack of banter unsettling. Perhaps Arthur was too worried about Gwen and Morgana to find any humour in their situation. 

“Come on,” Arthur said quietly. “Let’s make haste.” 

It took them a while to navigate through the decrepit halls of the Castle of Fyrien. There were more prison cells than a castle this size had any right needing. 

Finally, they caught the echo of low-pitched voices. With his wrists freed and a sword in hand, Arthur dispatched the guards patrolling outside Gwen and Elyan’s cell with ease. He didn’t even require any magical assistance for a change. 

While Arthur dealt with the guards, Merlin unlocked the door to the cell. 

Gwen expelled a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness you’re both all right.” 

The final guard let out a groan as Arthur drove a knee into his gut. In a matter of seconds, he was sprawled unconscious on the ground. 

“Have you seen Morgana?” Arthur asked without preamble. 

Gwen shook her head. “I overheard the guards talking. Apparently Cenred’s still interrogating her.” 

Arthur’s hand tightened around the sword. His eyes flicked in Merlin’s direction. “Escort Gwen and Elyan out of the castle. I’m going after Morgana.” 

“No, don’t!” How could Merlin make him see that it was a trap? “It’s too dangerous. We should go back to Camelot and gather reinforcements.” 

Arthur jaw tightened. “Sorry, Merlin. I'm not leaving without her. Morgana and I will catch up. When the three of you get to the horses, ride straight for Camelot. Do not wait for me.” 

There was a beat of silence in the wake of Arthur’s departure. 

Gwen cleared her throat. “You’re going after him, aren’t you?” 

“Yep.” Before Merlin could move to follow, Gwen halted him with a touch to his cheek. 

“Are you all right, Merlin?” 

“Fine.” 

She worried her lip, her liquid brown eyes brimming with concern. “Cenred didn’t harm you or Arthur?” 

“No, he just made some threats.” 

“Thank you. For coming with me.” 

A rush of fondness swam through Merlin. Gwen really was the best of them. Even if it stung to think about, it was no wonder why Arthur had fallen for her. “Are you kidding?” he contrived a teasing smile. “Arthur would never let me stay behind.” 

“It means a lot, all the same.” 

Merlin’s smile was genuine this time. “You and Elyan go on. I promise we’ll catch up.” Merlin trailed after Arthur, wending his way through unfamiliar halls until he reached the throne room. He arrived just in time to see Cenred grab Morgana from behind and pin her in place with a sword to her throat. From her affronted glare, it was obvious she hadn’t agreed to being handled by Cenred. 

Merlin racked his mind for a plan on how to rescue Arthur (and Morgana) without revealing himself. He crept forward before ducking behind a stone pillar of dubious structural integrity. 

“Take one more step and she dies,” Cenred warned. 

The muscles in Arthur’s arms bunched, feverish tension barely kept in check. 

“Perhaps I’ll keep the Lady Morgana permanently. She can entertain the rest of my men.” Morgause turned sharply to glare at Cenred. He continued, unfazed. “Merlin, though, I think I’ll keep for myself.”

Arthur’s voice shook with cold fury. “You’re a coward, Cenred.” 

Cenred laughed. “It's cowards that survive, Arthur. Now put down your sword. If you play nice, I might even let you live long enough to watch me take Merlin to bed. I’m sure with a bit more convincing, he’ll be more than happy to join me.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Arthur hissed. Merlin had never heard his voice so full of contempt. 

“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll put on a good show for you.” 

Arthur didn’t move, his limbs frozen with uncertainty over how to proceed. As far as he knew, a step forward could cost Morgana her life, but surrender wasn’t in his nature. 

“I won’t ask again. Drop your sword!” 

“Do as he says,” Morgause cut in. “Or do you require further persuading?” With a few guttural words, she invoked the powers of the Old Religion, conjuring a blazing arc of fire. 

For a split second, Merlin warred with the temptation to dart out from his hiding place and use his magic in clear view. He’d relish the look on Cenred’s face when the giant sleaze realized Merlin wasn’t some helpless fieldmouse, but a conduit for formidable elemental magic.  
Morgause and Morgana, too, would look at him with respect and awe instead of condescension. 

But he could never do that. 

Acknowledgement and credit would jeopardize his position as Arthur’s manservant, and without Arthur, there was no purpose for his magic. 

Merlin remained behind the pillar and cast the spell from afar. His power superseded Morgause’s, bending the magic to his will. The arc of fire resisted Morgause’s command, diverting in her direction instead of Arthur’s. 

Merlin chanted another spell under his breath. The ceiling splintered, stone and mortar crumbling in a whirlwind of dust that obscured their view. Merlin took this as his cue to dart forward and grab Arthur’s hand. 

The medley of smoke and dust inflamed his eyes, making them sting and water. “Let’s go!” 

“What the— _Merlin_?” Arthur cried in equal parts disbelief and outrage. 

“Save the lecture for later. Now’s our chance.” 

“We need Morgana.” 

No, they really didn’t, but he’d never be able to dissuade Arthur. 

“Help me find her,” Arthur ordered. “It’s impossible to see through all this.” 

Merlin muttered a spell to disperse the smoke enough for them to locate Morgana. As soon as Merlin spied her long ebony hair, he lunged for her. 

“Come on. We’re leaving.” 

Morgana glowered. She tried fruitlessly to tug her wrist free of Merlin’s deathgrip. “I can’t,” she lied. “I injured my ankle.” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Arthur threw Morgana over his shoulder and carried her out, ignoring her squawk of indignation. Merlin cast one final mini explosion to hinder any pursuers, then followed after them. 

Gwen and Elyan had rounded up the horses, but they hadn’t obeyed Arthur’s command to depart for Camelot. 

Arthur appeared unhappily resigned at having his explicit orders ignored yet again, but he didn’t berate them. 

Instead, Arthur was strangely reticent during their journey back to Camelot. He rode at the front of their procession, making no attempts to initiate conversation. Merlin hung back, unsure if his presence or chatter would be welcome. 

Once they’d reached the cover of the woods, Morgana sidled up to Arthur. She glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Merlin. Her eyebrows were drawn together in faux concern. “Arthur, what are you going to do about Merlin?” she stage-whispered, so that their entire party could overhear. “He’s from Essetir. The law states he falls under Cenred’s purview.” She glanced back at Merlin again. The twitch of her lips betrayed her feigned concern. “If Cenred makes it a demand, we’ll have to surrender him.” 

Arthur said nothing, but his hands clenched tight around the reins of his horse to the point where Merlin could see the bones of his hands taut beneath the skin. 

“Cenred could threaten to go to war if we don’t comply,” Morgana continued. 

“He’s already threatened war,” Arthur pointed out gruffly. 

“Yes, but if he makes it a point of contention, Uther will never allow Merlin to remain in Camelot.” 

A wretched hatred swelled through Merlin, supplanting the guilt he’d harboured since poisoning Morgana. It was ludicrous that Arthur thought he wanted to court her. He couldn’t stand her. Not after how easily she’d betrayed them, how quick she’d been to jeopardize Gwen and Arthur’s lives. 

“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” Gwen spoke up in a conciliatory tone. “Why would Cenred fixate on Merlin anyway?” 

“Because he desires him,” Arthur answered, spitting the words as if they tasted foul. 

“He doesn’t,” Merlin interrupted. “He just wanted to get a reaction out of you.” 

“Don’t be an idiot.” Arthur’s tone was acerbic, but he didn’t deign to meet Merlin’s eyes. 

“It’s true,” Morgana added. “Cendred seemed quite taken with Merlin.” 

Merlin glared daggers into her back. 

Morgana continued to probe the issue. “What do you intend to do? At the very least, we should have Merlin banished from Camelot. For his own safety, of course.” 

“We’ll discuss this later.” Arthur’s tone brooked no argument. “This knowledge is not to be shared with anyone else. Do you all understand?” 

Elyan and Gwen both swore their silence. It didn’t escape Merlin’s notice that Morgana didn’t respond. 

Their party lapsed into silence for the remainder of the journey back to Camelot. Arthur spoke up only once they’d reached the castle steps, and only to order Merlin to attend him in his chambers. 

Once inside Arthur's bedchambers, Merlin dutifully coaxed the hearth to a blaze and awaited his next order. Strangely, Arthur didn’t issue one. Instead, he summoned a chambermaid to the room. 

“Have the servants bring hot water for a bath.” 

“I can get it,” Merlin offered in spite of his bone-deep exhaustion. 

Arthur and the chambermaid ignored him. She scurried off to fulfil Arthur’s order, probably sensing from his mood that any dawdling would be reprimanded. 

“Did you need anything else?” Merlin queried. “I could fetch you more wine?” 

Still no response. 

“You know, giving me the silent treatment only makes you even more of a prat.” 

“God, Merlin, do you ever shut up?” 

“I would if you’d tell me what’s bothering you.” 

Arthur massaged his temples. Merlin hoped he wasn’t getting a migraine. He’d be even more unbearable than usual. “Just have a seat, Merlin. And be quiet for a few minutes.” 

Merlin pursed his lips and slid onto a chair. Arthur, meanwhile, made no move to sit. Instead he paced restlessly about the room, seized by a manic tension. 

They waited in silence until a pair of servants lugged in a large basin of water. They set it carefully in front of the hearth. Merlin decided it was too risky to use magic to heat the water to a perfect temperature. Arthur would have to make do with a lukewarm bath for a change. 

As soon as the servants fled the room, Arthur pressed a bar of soap into Merlin’s hands. It smelled of pine and herbs, both astringent and antiseptic. It wasn’t the first time Arthur had bidden Merlin to wash him, but it wasn’t a common occurrence, either. 

Merlin stood, waiting for Arthur to strip and submerge. 

“What are you waiting for?” Arthur’s brow tipped upwards. “Hop in.” 

“Me? But you’re ….” he gestured at the grime encrusting Arthur’s face and the thin line of coagulated blood on his forehead. 

“I want every trace of Cenred off you.” 

Merlin didn’t know what to make of Arthur’s expression. His gaze was intense, almost angry, though Merlin didn’t think the anger was directed at him. He obediently stripped out of his clothes, staggering when his tunic got caught around his head. 

He heard Arthur snort, but by the time he’d removed the offending garment, Arthur’s expression was rigid and mirthless once more. 

Merlin felt suddenly self conscious of his own nudity, though there was no reason for it. Arthur and Merlin had bathed together in rivers and streams countless times before. Well, not _together_. They’d maintained a perfectly respectable and normal distance, but they’d both been nude at the same time. Maybe that was why he felt flustered now. Arthur was fully clothed, putting him at a strange disadvantage. 

Ducking his head, Merlin clambered into the bath, sloshing water over the rim of the basin. He concentrated on lathering his hands with soap and scrubbing his body. Dirt sloughed off him, muddying the water. 

He startled at the feel of a hand on his back. It was a light, tentative touch. “May I?” Arthur’s voice was low and raspy the way it was when he had a cold. Perhaps he’d caught a chill from their night in the damp cell? 

“Yes,” Merlin answered, even though he had no idea what Arthur was asking. He didn’t think he was capable of denying his prince anything. 

Arthur reached for the soap, fumbling as it threatened to slip through his fingers. Slowly he brought the soap to Merlin’s back and scrubbed along the jut of his shoulder blades and down the dip of his spine. 

Arthur followed the path of the bar of soap with his hands, stroking down the length of Merlin’s back with sudsy fingers. Merlin let his eyes flutter shut, allowing himself to picture Arthur’s soapy fingers drifting lower, rubbing against the most intimate part of him. 

Before he could let the fantasy progress, Arthur rinsed the soap from his back and stepped away. Merlin opened his eyes, disappointed by the absence of Arthur’s touch. He watched Arthur pause several feet away in front of a small ewer of water to clean the grime from his own face. 

Merlin didn’t know what to make of Arthur’s mercurial mood. Something in their dynamic had shifted since the encounter with Cenred, but Merlin couldn’t pinpoint what it was, or how to re-establish normalcy. 

Deciding he’d languished long enough, Merlin emerged from the tub, shaking droplets of water from his hair. 

He wrapped a towel around himself, and when he raised his head, it was to see Arthur staring at him with an intensity that burned a flush of colour onto his cheeks. 

Arthur’s gaze snapped away almost guiltily. He returned to stalking aimlessly around the room. 

“Arthur? Is everything okay?” 

Arthur stopped in front of the mantel, staring into the dancing flames that Merlin had used magic to ignite. “Cenred would have had you in his bed.” 

“He couldn’t. I’d never willingly lie with him.” 

Arthur shifted on the spot. “If I’d had my sword with me in the cell, I would have killed him.” 

Merlin wasn’t sure what response Arthur was hoping for. “Well, that’s not very diplomatic, but given the circumstances…” 

“I wouldn’t have killed him for capturing us. I would have killed him for the way he spoke to you. Like you were some sort of object to possess.” Arthur swiveled abruptly, pinning him with an almost accusing stare. “Why didn’t you take Cenred up on his offer?” 

The non sequitur took Merlin for surprise. “Are you kidding?” 

Arthur bridged the distance between them. “Answer me.” His voice was more of a plea than an order. 

Merlin was dumbfounded. “Why would I?” How could Arthur seriously expect Merlin to ever pledge his loyalty to scum like Cenred? 

“Cenred offered you a position of nobility. Riches and luxuries that you're not afforded here. He would have spoiled you, provided you any pleasure in exchange for your service.” Arthur raked a hand through his hair. “I can’t give you those things. My father would laugh at me if I suggested giving you a title or land. Perhaps when I’m king I can promote you—” 

“Arthur.” 

“—but that won’t be for years. Until then, all I can offer you is my word. No, wait. I can do more.” With a jerking motion, Arthur strode to his desk and pulled out a map of Camelot from the haphazard pile of ever-present documents. “You can pick out an estate now. There’s valuable land in the north—” he cut himself off. “No, it’s too close to Cenred’s lands. We’ll find you something else. I’ll have Geoffrey draft the document, but I can’t officially bequeath it to you until after I’m crowned—” 

“Arthur!” Merlin snapped. “I don’t want any land! Or a title.” 

“Why not?” 

“What good would a title do me? You have one and I still call you a clotpole and a dollophead.” 

Arthur closed his eyes and exhaled forcefully. “Merlin, I realize you come from a simple farming village and don’t understand the value of—” 

“No,” he interrupted yet again. He grabbed Arthur’s shoulders, digging in with his nails for emphasis. “It’s you who doesn’t understand. I don’t need land, a title, or riches. That’s not why I’m here. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I have no wish to serve Cenred. I don’t care for him at all. And I don’t have feelings for Morgana either, for that matter.” 

Instead of placating Arthur, he only seemed to tense even further. “The thought of you with them makes me sick.” 

“Gee, thanks.” It was always gratifying to hear that others found you sickening. 

“The thought of you with _anyone_ makes me sick.” 

“Wow. You're really doing wonders for my self-esteem.” 

“You don’t even realize, do you?”

“Realize what?” 

Arthur shook his head. “Cenred’s offer would be more than enough to gain most servants’ loyalty.” 

“Not mine. I could never serve him.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because it's you, Arthur. You're the only man I will ever serve.” 

“But why?” he demanded, an undercurrent of frustration in his voice. 

“Because… because I’m loyal to you.” 

“And what have I done to earn this degree of loyalty? Why would you want to serve me when you're not even from Camelot? What could you possibly get out of delivering my meals and laundering my clothes?” 

God, he was really going to make Merlin say it, wasn’t he? Merlin could barely drive the words out. “Because I love you.” 

“What?” 

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. He felt like there was a vise around his heart, and an unnatural tightness in his throat. “I love you.” 

Arthur inhaled sharply. He didn’t say anything. The only sound that filled the room was the dull roar of the hearth. Merlin opened his eyes to gauge Arthur’s response. He didn’t know what expression awaited him, but he didn’t think he could stand to see disgust or pity in Arthur’s gaze. Before he could properly assess his expression, Arthur leaned in, capturing Merlin’s mouth with his own. 

Merlin froze, his muscles locking up like a prey animal preparing to bolt. Arthur’s lips were soft against his own. Soft and foreign. Merlin had stared at those lips an inappropriate amount of times, had fantasized countlessly about kissing them, and yet was entirely unprepared for their texture and feel. They moved with precision against his own, tasting faintly of mulled wine. 

Merlin pushed gently at Arthur’s chest. “What are you… w-why?” 

Arthur’s eyes were wide. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” 

Arthur’s words only served to deepen Merlin's confusion. “But you’re in love with Gwen.” 

“I _fancied_ Guinevere,” Arthur corrected. “And then I found out her heart belongs to Lancelot. They’ve been in correspondence for weeks now.” 

“Oh,” Merlin murmured, the hopeful feeling in his chest deflating. “So, I’m your second option.” 

Arthur threw up his hands. “Don’t you get it? It’s you, Merlin. It’s always been you. I’ve tried to stop; I’ve tried to get over you, but I _can’t_.” 

“Why would you want to get over me?” 

“You have no idea what you do to me, the influence you have. It makes me weak.” 

Merlin was about to question why Arthur equated love with weakness, but he caught himself. The answer was obvious: Uther’s stellar parenting. 

“Love isn’t a liability,” Merlin said slowly, in order to ram the point home. “It’s a strength.” 

“It makes me vulnerable,” Arthur countered. “Cenred already tried to exploit my feelings for you. Others will do the same. Morgana’s right; you’re not safe here in Camelot.” 

A strangled laugh escaped Merlin. “You’re not going to send me away.” 

“It would be the right thing to do but… no.” Arthur shook his head. “I don’t think I could.” 

“Good. Because I wouldn’t leave even if you ordered me to.” 

“Then we’re both fools.” 

“Maybe,” Merlin conceded. “But the way I see it, this just means we’ll have to be discreet in the future. And just because Cenred found out there’s something between us, doesn’t mean others will.” 

Arthur smiled faintly. “I’m not so sure I can be discreet where you’re concerned.” 

“What do you mean?” Arthur had been plenty discreet before. Prior to today, Merlin hadn’t had a clue that Arthur felt anything for him beyond general camaraderie and vague annoyance. 

“Seeing Cenred proposition you, and the thought of him touching you—of him _having_ you.” Arthur’s voice choked off. “I can’t stand it.” 

“Then you take me instead.” 

For a moment, the words hung in the air between them, heady and lingering like incense. 

“Take me,” Merlin repeated. He was going to feel like an idiot if Arthur turned him down after this. “Mark me. Make me yours.” 

Slowly, as if wary of spooking him, Arthur brushed his thumb across Merlin’s lower lip. His touch was tentative, as if anticipating rejection or protest. When none came, he pushed Merlin’s lips gently apart. They moved with the pressure, opening, Merlin’s breath fast against Arthur’s hand. 

Arthur didn’t seem to know how to proceed, so Merlin spurred him on by flicking his tongue against his thumb. 

“I’m going to kiss you, Merlin.” 

He huffed. “Well, I would hope so.” 

Arthur shut him up with a hard, claiming kiss. Arthur licked Merlin's lower lip. His mouth fell open, and Arthur wasted no time slipping his tongue between his parted lips. The effect was electrifying, and Merlin felt as if all of his nerve endings were alit. 

Without breaking the kiss, Arthur walked them backwards to the bed. The towel wrapped around Merlin slipped free, baring his naked skin to the cool night air. 

Arthur severed the kiss, pulling back so his eyes could roam across Merlin’s nude body. 

Merlin felt tempted to retrieve the towel and preserve his modesty, but he’d feel foolish doing so. He wouldn’t call himself scrawny, but any muscle definition he’d managed to acquire looked woefully inadequate next to Arthur’s perfectly honed body. Which was still fully clothed. 

“Off,” Merlin muttered, reaching for Arthur’s tunic. “This needs off.” 

Arthur smirked. “Go on, then.” 

His nimble fingers made quick work of the various catches and laces of Arthur's clothes. Even so, it seemed to take ages before Arthur shared his state of total undress. 

Merlin’s eyes wandered hungrily down Arthur’s body, mapping over his beautifully contoured muscles. When they finally landed on his cock, a groan escaped him. He’d caught glimpses of Arthur’s cock before, but it had never been hard and straining with arousal. His thick cock was flushed, the head engorged and leaking at the tip. Urgency coiled in Merlin’s gut. He wanted to get his mouth around it. Or maybe have it inside him. 

“Get on the bed,” Arthur husked. His blue irises were almost completely obliterated by huge black pupils. He looked thoroughly debauched and they’d barely even begun. 

Merlin scrambled to obey, falling back on the luxuriously soft bedding. 

Arthur’s gaze dwelled appreciatively for a moment before he followed after Merlin. Arthur caged his body with his arms. His lips traced a searing path down Merlin's skin, brushing across his collarbone and teasing his nipples into hard peaks. Merlin writhed helplessly beneath him. 

“Want you,” he moaned. 

Arthur gave no indication that he’d heard, not veering from the slow course his mouth was charting. 

“Please,” Merlin whined. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t be caught dead begging, but he was too desperate to care. “Please, I need you.” 

Before he could debase himself further, Arthur took pity on him, wrapping the head of his cock in the warm heat of his mouth. Arthur's tongue laved along the underside, before playing with the sensitive slit. 

Merlin’s hips surged helplessly upward. He knew it wouldn’t take long for him to come like this, with Arthur’s skillful mouth coaxing pleasure from him, but it wasn’t what he wanted now. 

“Want you to fuck me.” 

With a hard suck, Arthur pulled off him, his cheeks flushed to match the ruddy colour of his hard cock. “We need oil, or something.” 

Merlin ducked his head to hide the flash of his gold eyes. A bottle of oil flew into his hand from across the room, so swift and seamless, Arthur took no notice. “Here.” He pressed the bottle into Arthur’s hands. 

To his credit, Arthur wasted no time, although his movements were needlessly gentle as he massaged along his hole. He stretched Merlin with careful fingers and copious amounts of oil until he deemed him ready. 

The blunt cockhead pressed against Merlin’s opening. Arthur paused to meet his eyes before shoving his hot length inside. Merlin’s breath punched out of him. His head fell back against the pillows. 

Arthur’s fingers were bruising on Merlin’s hips, as if afraid he would vanish if Arthur didn’t hold tight enough. 

“Fuck,” Arthur breathed. “You feel so good.” 

Merlin’s spine went liquid, and the rest of his body was in the process of melting beneath Arthur’s touch. 

Arthur established a desperate, frenetic pace, pulling out and burying himself as deep as possible. 

Their bodies fit perfectly together. Arthur was the perfect thickness, filling him until he was almost overwhelmed. It had been so long since he’d had any sexual encounters, and he’d never had one anywhere near as good as this. Arthur’s movements satisfied some deep, primal part of him, made his magic feel both soothed and invigorated. 

Arthur raised one hand off Merlin’s hips in order to bury it in his hair and angle his head for a kiss. 

“You’re mine.” 

Merlin’s cock jumped at the possessive rumble of Arthur’s voice. _“Yes.”_

He felt almost delirious with pleasure, his senses full of Arthur. Arthur above him and around him and pressing inside of him. Merlin wanted it to never stop but he was also desperate to come, and he knew his orgasm was imminent. 

Arthur’s hips swiveled, his cock driving against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Merlin gritted his teeth, wanting to prolong this moment of ecstasy, but overwhelming climax slammed over him. 

His toes curled, and his vision went fuzzy at the edges. The tingle of magic washed over him. He had just enough presence of mind to worry that Arthur might have noticed the suffusion of magic in the air, but his thrusts didn’t falter, and he gave no indication that anything was amiss. 

Merlin fought to regain his breath as Arthur’s thrusts sped up, movements shallow and frantic. He gasped at the feel of Arthur's cock pulsing deep inside him, filling him with his seed. His own cock let out another feeble twitch. 

Arthur barely managed to pull out before collapsing on top of him. 

Merlin grunted at the added weight. Arthur’s body was muscled and fit, but he clearly hadn’t missed any meals, either. Merlin squirmed until Arthur got the hint to roll off him. 

They lay together, sated and basking in the afterglow. Merlin flopped an arm across Arthur’s waist. Arthur responded by nosing against the side of his face, before pressing a single kiss to his cheekbone. 

“Mm, maybe I should send Cenred a thank you letter.” 

Arthur stiffened against him. He could feel the force of Arthur’s glare. “Don’t mention that bastard's name.” 

Merlin smothered a smile. He was too easy to rile up. “I’m just saying, if it wasn’t for him, we might never have gotten together.” 

Arthur reflexively tightened his hold around Merlin. He probably didn’t relish the idea of being indebted to Cenred of all people. “You can send Cenred a letter,” he hedged, “but only if you state in it that you don’t want anything to do with him, and that you’re not leaving Camelot.” 

Merlin sobered. As amusing as it was teasing Arthur, he also didn’t want him doubting the depths of his regard. “I’m yours, Arthur. For as long as I live and you're willing to have me, I’m yours.”

"Then I guess you're mine forever." 

That arrangement suited Merlin perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> comments are greatly appreciated


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